Ranger's Guide A to Z
by RangerLyra
Summary: A chapter on every letter of the alphabet and a story along with it. Starting with A for apprentice. Trying not to base all the stories all Halt, Will, Gilan etc. Rated T because the part about the bear and not because I'm paranoid.
1. A for Apprentice

**A for apprentice**

 _Every ranger must take on an apprentice eventually. Apprentices are trained in ranger skills for 5 years before qualifying as a fully fledged ranger with a silver oak leaf. After their training a strong bond is formed between master and apprentice. They never turn down a chance to see each other._

 **Here's a story of how Pritchard became Ranger Dalaigh's (daw-lee) new apprentice:**

The old ranger with unkempt hair peered intently at the young man standing before him with an determined look in his eyes. The young man was about thirteen to fourteen, Dalaigh decided.

"And what do you want?" The ranger questioned abruptly. He stepped forward but Pritchard seemed unintimidated.

"To be your apprentice." The boy said simply.

"Hmm, perhaps." The ranger stroked his beard. "But I am rather occupied this month, I've got a lot on my hands already, and I don't need an bothersome apprentice at my heels."

The boy's eyebrows furrowed in dissatisfaction, "But, sir, I promise, I won't cause any trouble, I'll help you with anything."

"Sorry, lad." Dalaigh turned away and began stalking into the forest to where his horse was tethered.

Pritchard was not about to give up so easily. He followed carefully and quietly in pursuit of the ranger. As he stepped, he wiggled his foot under twigs that could snap and alert a nearby ear. The boy kept by the shadows and followed the trail of the ranger. He entered a clearing where a cabin stood at the side adjacent to a couple of painted targets.

"Ahem." Came a voice behind Pritchard, who spun around to face a towering, but not by much, vexed ranger.

"Umm," Pritchard stuttered.

"Umm indeed. What are you doing?"

"I said I want to be a ranger."

"And I thought I said no. Come on, off you go." Dalaigh picked up the boy and carried him back into the forest.

The next day Dalaigh woke to the sound of birds singing and decided a cup of coffee would make his day. He took out a cup in the cupboard and bristled when he saw the note residing within. It read _Please, I want to be a ranger._

He groaned and tucked the note in his pockets. The ranger went over to the jar of coffee beans next. Inside, he saw paper slips of the same content he grabbed a handful of notes out and started brewing his coffee. Then he headed for the honey jar and was startled to find a ball of honey soaked parchment. He did not bother to read them.

"How did he-" He began and caught sight of a still figure in the trees at the edge of the clearing through a window. To an untrained eye, the figure was completely concealed but to a ranger, it stuck out like a sore thumb.

A furious ranger Dalaigh marched out into the clearing with a bucket of water grabbed on the way out and strode towards the tree. The figure was sleeping peacefully on a thick branch about three meters high. The ranger was almost rueful to disturb the peaceful slumber when he threw the contents of the bucket up at the figure who jerked awake instantly, took a moment to realize what was happening and stared down at the forbidding ranger down below.

"What was that for?" Pritchard grumbled.

Dalaigh answered with a question, "Do you still want to be my apprentice?" An eager nod was the response. "Right, you can start by going to the village and getting me more honey, since you polluted the supply with ink."

"Woohoo!" Came a cry from above and Pritchard swiftly slid down the tree. He abandoned the tough and resolute manner and adopted a boyish one with much cheering. He ran into the woods in search of more honey. _He's practically skipping._ The rueful ranger thought.

Pritchard returned to the cabin in the afternoon with a jar of honey tucked beneath an arm. He entered the cabin to see his new mentor sitting by his desk with a report in hand. He looked up to see the youth coming in.

"Ahh, good, you're back. The floor needs scrubbing." Dalaigh muttered and gestured to the floor.

"But, Dalaigh, when are you going to start my training?" Pritchard asked impatiently.

"It has already started, now get to it." With that, he turned back to his report.

Pitchard sighed and went in the bathroom to look for a cloth.

After he finished Dalaigh suggested that the stables need mucking out. Pritchard complied, then after he said that the table could do with a good wipe. This went on for four days until Pritchard said for the a millionth time, "Dalaigh, when are you going to teach me ranger skills? I'm bored out of my mind. Do you know how tedious doing chores all day is?"

"I'm quite busy right now, Pritchard, go talk to yourself in your own room."

"That's it, I'm not telling you where I've hidden the rest of the paper notes, and I can tell you there's a lot, I just hope you don't swallow one by accident 'cause I've hid some in your food supply."

Dalaigh was paying more attention now. "What, where?"

"Not telling you." Pritchard teased.

At lunch, Dalaigh regarded his food with suspicion before tentatively taking a bite. Pritchard watched with an amused expression.

"You're devious enough to be a ranger." His mentor commented and Pritchard beamed apparently taking it as a compliment.

After lunch, Dalaigh looked around the house looking for the notes but found none. He looked again and again but still they were nowhere to be seen. The ranger didn't think that a few notes would bother him at all but it was just the feeling that something was hidden from him in his own cabin that nagged him.

Finally he led Pritchard out into the clearing bringing with him a bag.

He took out the saxe knife first much to the delight of his apprentice. Pritchard grovelled at it. Then out came the throwing knife and at last the bow and arrows.

"Ooooh." The eager youth cried and picked up the bow before Dalaigh could stop him. He ran out of his mentor's grasp and picked up and arrow. He nocked it and drew. The draw weight was surprisingly heavy but he managed to full draw.

Pritchard had not planned to release the arrow but his fingers gave away. He released and watched in a second of horror as the arrow steamed towards the cabin and buried it self in the door. The string hit his arm with a whack but he was wearing a long-sleeved tunic.

"Whoops." He managed to say.

"Great, now I've got a hole in my door." Dalaigh said sarcastically with surprising calmness, "You can patch it up later. Just tell me where the notes are."

"Well, umm, you've already found all of them, I umm mean to say, there were only three, the three um you found. There were never anymore." Pritchard said sheepishly.

"What!? In that case, you can fill in the hole right after you clean out the stables." Dalaigh turned to leave before he lost the last of his sanity.

* * *

 **The next chapter is B for bow, so reviews and suggestions please if you've got a better word starting with b you're welcome to share it. I'll try to update within the next couple of days. Just saying, Pritchard was Halt's mentor so you can see where some of his ideas came from...**

 **-Lyra**


	2. B for Bow

**B for bow**

 _All ranger's must be experts at using the bow. They practice with their bows everyday until they never miss the target, then they practice more. Rangers use longbows the draw weight varying from 60 pounds to 80. Although some apprentices use recurve bows in their first and second year because of their smaller frame. An average ranger can hit an egg from at least 75 meters away._

 **Here's a story that demonstrates a ranger's uncanny skill with the bow (This story dates back to when Ranger Will Treaty was in his last year of apprenticeship):**

The ranger crept closer and closer to the unaware bandits who were busying themselves with emptying the chest found in the carriage.

They were threatening a travelling carriage by sword point and the terrified lady with the biggest wig threw out the chest willingly. She screamed abuse at the out-laws as she saw all her jewellery fumbled around by sweaty and shaggy men. Her bewildered chauffeur sat with the whip and reins still in his hands.

The ranger, Will, took a deep but silent breath in and a deep breath out. He reached back in his quiver and nocked an arrow. He was about to draw when the six bandits came around to the other side so their backs were turned to Will.

Will lowered his bow hand as another idea came into his hand. "I would be slightly impressed if you can get all of them alive." He heard Halt saying before he left to track the bandits. _I'll show you, Halt._ Will thought.

He reached under his cloak and brought out his strikers, brass tubes that weighed heavily. In one sudden movement, he jumped out from behind the bush catching the bandits unaware. Before the men could turn around to face their attacker, Will slammed his strikers into two of the bandits who collapsed unconscious. He took out the other four the same way in a matter of seconds. The last one had just managed to turn his head before the heavy baton slammed into his ear, he cried as his eyes rolled up into his head and fainted.

 _And there you go, Halt._ Will thought. He turned and faced the lady in the prestigious, yet a little over the top, wig. Will studied it and calculated that it rose about half a meter above her head. Flowers and fruit stuck out accompanied with ribbons and flowers. At the very top through a bundle of hair rose a golden apple though Will suspected that it was most likely painted that colour.

"King's Ranger, ma'am." Will said proudly. "And if I may say so, that's a very natty wig you have on."

"No you may not say so." The lady snapped back with dignity. "Stanley," The chauffeur turned to look back, "Bring me pie, I'm hungry." She ordered.

"Yes, m'lady." Stanley got up and started rummaging through a bag. He brought out a pie the size of a moon and handed it to the lady through the window of the carriage. Will thought it was more the size of Horace's shield.

Without the least bit of grace, she began stuffing the humongous pie into her mouth. Will tried to make conversation.

"My friend Jenny makes the best of pies, she's studying to be a cook. You should try her pies, my lady."

The lady made time between the huge bites and said impatiently, "Well, I'm not eating a pie made by some incompetent girl. She'd probably ruin it by putting in too much pepper."

Will fumed. "First of all, my lady, she is not incompetent, second of all pies are not made with pepper, third of all, instead of thanking me for the presence of your coffer you insult my friend, and last of all your wig is ridiculous!"

The lady gasped, "My wig is not! You insolent little boy."

"Yes it is, why's it got fruit stuck in it in the first place?"

"Those are the decorations!"

"But what is the wig for," His expression changed to one of incredulity, "You're not bald, m'lady, are you?"

Before the lady could answer, Will turned around as he heard the crunching of gravel behind him. One burly bandit had woken up and was now running away from the path and into the woods. Will cursed under his breath and set off after the man with his bow still in his left hand and an arrow nocked and ready prepared to shoot the bandit. "I would be slightly impressed if you can get all of them alive." He heard Halt say again and groaned.

Will could still make out the figure in front easily through the green foliage. Branches scratched at their faces and arms. Will saw the shadow of the man start growing larger as the bandit grew weary. Will gave a new burst of energy and dashed forward. They entered a slight glade.

A cacophonous sound radiated through the forest. "Roooaaarrrrr!"

"What the devil was—" The out-law began but stopped as he spotted the source of the roar.

A large brown bear stood just 5 meters away. Its nostrils flaring, it glared at the two men and let out a noisy bellow. Its fur was sleek and dark as the glint of his razor sharp claws glittered in the forest light.

"Gorlog's beard, nostrils, horns, feet and teeth!" The apparently Skandian bandit shrieked with fear.

The bear advanced but not to Will, to the bandit who stood quivering. Will would have happily let the bear take care of the bandit but he desperately wanted to make Halt 'slightly impressed'.

The bear pounced. Will drew the already nocked arrow, aimed and released before the bear made another centimetre in the air. The arrow hit its mark. The bear's eye.

Howling, it rolled onto its side and the arrow end snapped off. Unfortunately for Will, it still had the other eye. Turning its head to the ranger, the bear charged.

Will was terrified but he kept clam because he knew that if he didn't aim this shot well, he would be dinner. He nocked another arrow and drew within half a second. Concentrating hard, the archer stared at the charging bear intently, aimed and released.

The arrow shot through the air and buried its head into the bear's forehead piercing its brain. Will sighed with relief as the animal collapsed under his feet. The bandit just gaped for a few seconds, remembered what was occurring before the appearance of the bear, spun on his heels and ran.

Will nocked, drew, aimed and released, the arrow shot past the bandit's ear. He stopped in his tracks and clutching one hand to his ear. The Skandia felt a wet and sticky liquid and realised that it was blood.

"Don't shoot." He muttered feebly.

"You won't run?" Will asked in reply.

The bandit nodded. The only bandit that Will was willing to trust was an unconscious one, so he took out his strikers for the second time that day.

* * *

When Will got the castle Redmont with the bandits and Tug, the sun had almost set. He had arrived back at the carriage to find that the carriage had gone but the bandits were still there. The lady had clearly gotten impatient and left, leaving Will to do the last bit of delivering the bandits. He had led Tug to the road and tied the bandits up but he couldn't wake the bandits up to walk.

Will dragged the bandits to the castle with Tug walking beside him. When they had arrived, Will utterly exhausted.

He reported to the baron and the bandits were to be trialed the next day. Halt stepped out of the shadows which startled both of them but they were used to it.

"So, are you the slightest bit impressed, Halt?" Will asked after he finished telling the story.

Halt scowled but said, "Well, I guess you did demonstrate a great amount of skill with that bow of yours."

A creaking sound came from the entrance. The wig was spotted first. "And you also demonstrated a great amount of insolence towards my wig."

Will knew he was in trouble when Halt's eyes narrowed.

* * *

 **Again, reviews on what the next letter are more than welcome. I'm thinking C for Coffee.**


	3. C for Coffee

**Hi, many thanks to CrazedFangirl13 and Amania00 for reviewing. The idea of this chapter actually came from one of my other story 'It's a stick not a bow' and this was suppose to be what was happening as Halt, Will and Gilan argued about bows, sticks and practice.**

* * *

 **C for coffee**

 _Coffee is a crucial part of the lives of every ranger in the ranger corps. It is so essential, that missing a day of coffee was the worst thing that could happen to a ranger. It is this somewhat unhealthy addiction that runs through the corps and keeps up rangers' strength. Most rangers take their coffee black but some rangers add honey to their aromatic drinks._

 **Here's a story illustrating why messing with rangers and their coffee is not entirely a good idea:**

"Here, your name's Quail, innt?" The stubby first-year apprentice with fair hair asked the other with dark brown who nodded and smiled. "Well, me name's Widge." The apprentice continued. "Hey, who's yer mentor?"

"Mallard." Quail replied.

"Hmm, what's he like?" The stubby boy questioned.

"He's, just, Mallard. Capable, witty, stubborn, you know, ranger-like. And umm, drinks to much coffee for his own good health." He added as an afterthought.

"Bartell's just the same, can't stand a day without coffee. Mind you, I bet all rangers can't stay away from the drink. I've seen coffee pots all 'round the gathering."

Quail nodded slowly, "I guess."

An idea slowly and suddenly crept into Wigde's mind. "'ere, I got an idea." He then turned towards two other boys that appeared to be apprentices in their first year. "Oi, Ernie, McKal, o'er 'ere! I got us a grand plan."

They huddled and whispered together in hushed tones earning suspicious glances from rangers passing.

Finally, Widge stood up concluding the Meeting of the Obnoxious Yet Unqualified Soon-to-be (in five years) Rangers. "Right then, that's settled." He said with a finality in his voice. "So, Ern' what've you and Quail gotta do?" It was clear who was the leader in this new friendship (partnership to accomplish mischief).

"Distract the rangers on the southern side of the gathering, while Quail sneaks around pinching the coffee pots." Ernie recited and Quail who was the best at unseen movement because of his shy nature nodded his consent.

"That's correct, me an' McKal'll take care of the northern side in the same fashion. Right, gang, disperse." The group of apprentices scuttled away two in one direction heading towards a campfire and two in the opposite.

* * *

Widge and McKal headed for the nearest campfire and tent. A few rocks circled an ashen patch of soil. And above the circular patch was a spit, burdening two poles at each side. Hanging from the spit to the boys' delight was a brass coffee pot stained dark with a million times of brewing the brown liquid.

"Yes! Check for rangers around." Widge muttered under his breath. They both turned their heads one direction then the other.

"And what do you think you're doing?" A gruff voice came from behind the two of them. They turned on their heels and saw—

"Bartell!" Widge cringed. He looked around and saw the tent's exit flapping in the wind. _Of course, he came from the tent._ Just one small detail he overlooked.

McKal and Widge both knew that they should just keep relatively calm (at least on the outside) and stick to the plan.

 _I need to distract him._ Widge thought. He looked around for inspiration and his only idea was not appealing. Swiftly, he stepped towards his mentor took hold the saxe knife in Bartell's belt, unsheathed it and ran.

"Widge, come back with my saxe, right now!" The flustered ranger began to chase his apprentice.

As master and apprentice ran around a tree screaming (Widge of fear and Bartell of anger), McKal edged closer to the coffee pot. Seeing that he was unnoticed, he grabbed the pot of the spit and hid it under his cloak.

* * *

Widge joined McKal at the bush where they hid the pots a while later with a nasty bruise on his forehead.

"What happened to you?" McKal asked as they began walking back to the next tent and fire. "You looked like you've been dragged through a rose bush by a wild bear."

"It weren't a rose bush, but me did sees the resemblance of a wild bear." McKal snorted. "Well, Bartell di'nt do _this_." He said pointing to his bruise. "I bumped me head on a tree branch while trying to get away."

"Ha, you deserved it, for coming up with such a bad idea!" McKal laughed, "You could've just said you wanted to show him something and brought him to a beehive or such."

"You try coming up with an idea when a wild bear's staring at ya." McKal snorted again.

They snuck the coffee pot from the next campfire without much difficulty as there was no one there but a contented horse grazing on a patch of grass who did not give them much notice.

* * *

The other half of the team, Ernie and Quail, weren't having as many difficulties. They snuck around the dozen tents and campfires snatching up coffee pots and hiding them under their cloaks. The occasional ranger passed by the apprentices most of them hardly bothering to glance their way.

By the time they arrived at their last objective, their hands were full with pots under their cloaks. But they managed to fit one last coffee pot in their hands without making to much of a fuss.

They rushed over to the decided bush to hide the coffee pots. They unloaded the haul with a deafening clang and quickly looked around for anyone that might have heard it. No one did or at least no one bothered enough to see what it was.

About a quarter of an hour later, McKal and Widge joined up with the other two at the Coffee Pot Bush. Quail pointed at Widge's big ugly bruise inquisitively but Wigde waved the question off.

"Now, yer sure you've got all the coffee pots?" Widge asked instead. The other two boys nodded.

"Fairly positive." Said Ernie.

"Right. Let the good show begin." The boys settled themselves on the outskirts of the gathering but close enough to hear every word being said by the campfires and tents.

* * *

As the afternoon faded into the evening and as breezes commenced to whisk through the balmy air, rangers began starting their fires to cook the evening meal and most importantly to brew the coffee.

It was Crowley who noticed it first. He stood up suddenly.

"Where has my coffee pot gone?" His eyes narrowed on each of his companions who shrugged.

Ranger Liam began to say, "No biggie, Crowley. You can use mine, I've got it right here—" The last word died in his mouth and he saw that his coffee pot was gone too. The boys hiding not but ten meters away in a thicket snickered silently.

Now the other rangers sitting by Crowley and Liam had begun to look for their coffee pots too, only to find that theirs have vanished like Crowley's had.

"What the devil?" Someone began only to be interrupted shouts of anguish at the though of having no coffee. Then cries all throughout the gathering, as rangers realised that their coffee pots were gone too.

Crowley tried unsuccessfully to silence the rangers with commands and waves of the hands. He finally ran over to a big rock, clambered on to it and began screaming at the rangers for silence.

When the rangers had all stopped ranting, Crowley said more calmly. "It's obvious their is a thief in our ranks, and who ever that may be, I suggest you to own up quickly and give back to pots or you'll never live to regret it. Now the rest of you, stay calm, we'll get our coffee if it's the last thing we do."

Mutters filled the gathering but the rangers nodded and disbursed eyeing each other wearily. The boys that were the cause of this chaos could not help but burst into laughter despite the threatening warning Crowley had just made.

Crowley heard snickers from a bush at the edge of the gathering and he edged closer to the boys.

Ernie's laughter turned suddenly into a chocking gasp as an arm tightened around the scruff of his cloak and pulled him upright.

"Ah." Widge began. Crowley raised an eyebrow.

"Hmm, a bunch of apprentices snickering deviously behind a bush seems to coincide with the disappearance of our precious coffee pots. Care to explain why?"

McKal snorted at the word _precious._ Crowley's gaze turned to McKal who sensed his anger and retreated into the shadow of a tree behind them.

"Come on, out with it! Where are they!" Crowley's patience had worn, his usually cheery manner and acceptance of jokes seemed to dissipate when it came to coffee.

"Why should we tell ya, Crowley?" Widge asked with much courage.

"Because then I wouldn't have to put an arrow through you." Crowley explained slowly.

* * *

After a while questioning the stubborn apprentices and getting no answer, he decided to consult the matter with his grizzled friend of equal stubbornness. The ranger commandant headed for a field a minute's walk away where Halt was practising archery with his two former apprentices the whole afternoon sharing their latest events.

He had come back just five minutes later, walked towards the apprentices still giggling in a huddle, grabbed two at a time and threw them into the nearby stream. The apprentices gasped as their heads rose above the surface of the water. Crowley's movement had been so fast they had barely registered what he was doing before flying through air and landing with a splash into the water.

"We're still not telling you where the coffee pots are." Widge cried defiantly. A few rangers had gathered around to see the soggy apprentices in the river.

Crowley shrugged and said to other rangers, "We're rangers, we're supposed to be resourceful, we don't need coffee pots to brew our coffee, we can just as easily use the cooking pot." They rangers turned in unison to brew their coffee leaving the apprentices cold and wet.

A soaking Widge called out, "I don't suppose we can have some of that nice hot coffee you're about to brew, Crowley. I'm quite fancying the idea of a cup me self."

"You don't suppose correctly." Crowley called back over his shoulder.

* * *

 **Thanks for reading! What should D be? Double knife** **defence? Duncan, King Duncan? Umm, what else? If I do double knife defence should I rewrite the fight Horace had with Moragarath or something else. Please review.**

 **-Lyra**


	4. D for Discipline

**First of all, many thanks again to my loyal reviewers, Amania00 and CrazedFangirl13 for your suggestions. I thought about Will's dog's but like I said, I don't really want to base most of the stories on Will or Halt or Gilan because this is just a general guide to all rangers.** **Second of all, I'm really sorry about this chapter, I honestly don't like it at all but I couldn't think of anything else to write. I promise the next chapter will be better. Though I did try to incorporate as much humour as I could into this chapter.**

* * *

 **D for Discipline**

 _Rangers need to have discipline to practice and train everyday. They especially need self-discipline because they can not move when they are hiding, even scratching a nose can result in alerting the enemy. You need self-discipline in order to stay hidden and unmoving for hours, sometimes even in uncomfortable positions._

 **Here's a poem of what's going through Ranger Roseblade's mind as she hides in a brier (A work being in free verse):**

 **Oh Why Oh Why Could I not have chosen a better position**

I sit in a number of prickly rose bushes;

They scratch at my arm,

But I do not move to rub the cuts.

My eyes roll inside my head,

They spy left and they spy right.

But; Fie! I cannot move my head.

I would not!

Even though I feel,

Like a giraffe with rheumatoid arthritis in the neck! (What? My father's a healer)

I know not a word that rhymes with this,

But it is alright,

Because this is a free verse poem!

Oh why oh why oh why oh why,

Could I not have chosen a better position!

There is a stick prodding my back,

With peculiar malice,

for a stick.

To remove it would be so easily done,

With as slight movement as to nod a head.

But no!

I can not!

I would not!

O evil stick, you foul stick!

Ughh, I despise sticks,

Almost as much as,

The moment where you open a jar,

and within,

You find, but a thin layer of brown,

Signalling the end of your coffee supply.

Oh why oh why oh why oh why,

Could I not have chosen a better position!

I can feel the rocks and twigs,

That I sit on,

Beneath the fabric of my breeches.

If I could just scooch a little to the right,

I would feel much much better.

But I cannot!

I would not!

If I do, I will alert the sentry.

The big fat sentry stands right in front of me,

He paces left and right,

Forwards and backwards.

But he does not see me. (Ha! The witless oaf!)

For I am well hidden inside my cloak.

Hoozah!; to you, cloak!

My trusted friend!

But even you cannot save me,

From the discomfort of being concealed.

Oh why oh why oh why oh why,

Could I not have chosen a better position!

This is really boring,

I'm starting to fall asleep.

I mentally pinch myself, (Well, I have to admit it doesn't really work)

For I must keep awake.

I want to close my eyes,

Just to take a moment to rest, (The wonders a cup a coffee could do right now!)

But I cannot!

I would not!

I have to keep a wary eye on the sentry, (who is now scratching his backside; 'cause people do that when they think no one's watching)

One two four eight,

I start doubling numbers. (like I was taught at the two months I attended a school)

Sixteen thirty-two sixty-four.

Right, I should probably stop,

As I start to think of sheep. (jumping over fences)

Oh why oh why oh why oh why,

Could I not have chose a better position!

I watch with horror at the bug,

That's inching closer,

Towards my nose.

Its antennae trembles as if greeting me.

With growing trepidation I see,

The insect crawling onto my nose.

I want to flick it off,

But I cannot!

I would not!

I shift my gaze toward the guard, (Who's now picking his abnormally large nose; What is it with these people?!)

Serving as a distraction.

Oh why oh why oh why oh why,

Could I not have chose a better position.

 _-Ranger Roseblade_

* * *

 **Thank you if you have bothered to read through the whole thing! Suggestions for E please. I've literally got no idea... Except for Edge as in Cutting Edge. Hmmm, maybe Gilan cuts his finger when Halt shows him the saxe but that has already been done like ten times. I might pm who ever's done that idea... But I'm not doing Erak! (Or Ebony for that matter)**


	5. E for Effort

**A big thank you to Amania00, CrazedFangirl13, BattleHawk75 and Moniquebowman for your reviews and awesome suggestions. But in the end I decided on effort. Most of you seemed to like it better when the chapters were more funny soo, this chapter's for all you lot but sorry moniquebowman because this chapter doesn't really add to the variety. It's about pranking, again. Just saying that the story is a bit far from effort but it was harder to do a funny one than a serious one like the last chapter for this word. But it relates, because Crowley is demonstrating a large amount of effort into trying to get the better of his mentor.**

 **Enjoy...**

* * *

 **E for Effort**

 _Rangers always make an effort in anything they set their mind up to do. Becoming a ranger is a hard and rigorous journey. Throughout that journey, putting in effort everyday is required if you want to be a skilled ranger. That includes even the smartest of apprentices._

 **Here's a somewhat controversol story of Ranger Crowley in his unruly apprentice years putting his best effort into pranking his mentor (many rangers might disapprove of such behaviour but nonetheless we applaud Crowley for striving to accomplish his endeavours resolutely):**

A brightly spirited Crowley entered the cabin with a bounce into each step. He waved at his mentor Pritchard who was busying himself with emptying a cup of coffee.

"Had a good time, Crowley?" He inquired and the young apprentice went to stand before his teacher.

"Yes thanks, Pritchard." The ranger nodded and returned his attention to his cup of coffee. Crowley didn't move away but stood looking at Pritchard like he had something to say but was contemplating if he should.

Pritchard paused, swallowing the mouthful of coffee, "Come on, out with it."

Crowley decided that it was too late to turn back, "Umm, Pritchard, you know the girl apprenticed to Lady Mary-guin?" Pritchard nodded slowly, "Well, as it happens, Anne, that's her name, is going to market day tomorrow. I was wondering if I could go, you know, to spend some time with her. I mean, we barely see each other."

Pritchard did not say anything. Crowley waited.

"So can I have another day off tomorrow?" Crowley asked finally. He saw his mentor's eyebrows furrow. _Funny_ , he thought, _they usually go in the other direction, up._

Pritchard managed to start his sentence, "I—"

"Oh thank you, Pritchard, you're the best!" Crowley, who was sure that Crowley would say yes, said as he hurried to the door.

"Wait." Pritchard ordered. Crowley's feet stopped but his mouth continued to move.

"Much appreciated, Pritchard. I'm going to tell Anne. She'll be most pleased. You won't regret it, Pritchard." He stumbled.

"I know I won't," Pritchard replied, "Because you're not going."

The youth's grin disappeared in an instance, "But, Pritchard."

"No," The ranger said sternly, "You've just had a day off and you're starting to fall behind in your geography. To be honest, I wasn't even sure if I should be giving today off." He walked over to his desk and rummaged about, bringing out a sheet of paper. "Off with you, go work on this tactical problem."

Crowley was aghast but he knew better than to argue with a ranger. Instead, he made do with pouting and thinking to himself, _That's where you wrong, Pritchard, you will regret it._

The next morning, Crowley woke up at the break of dawn and exited his bedroom. His mentor usually rose before him but Crowley got out of bed extra early this morning.

Taking out from the cupboard two cups, he placed them on the table, noting carefully which one was going to be Pritchard's. Then, with an artful grin on his face, he began to brew their daily cups of coffee.

Pritchard walked into the room, half an hour later, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. He spotted his apprentice, sitting over at the table with breakfast and two cups of very inviting coffee. The ranger gazed suspiciously at the youth who gestured for him to take a seat.

"Good morning, Pritchard." Crowley said rather formally as Pritchard took a tentative seat opposite of him.

"Is it?" Pritchard replied.

Crowley shrugged and said, "Sure it is! For me anyways."

 _It seems that he has already forgotten about the market and the girl, Anne, was it?_ Pritchard thought to himself as he took the cup of coffee he was offered. _Young people these days…_

He took a sip and began on his breakfast of burnt bacon and soggy bread. It seems that Crowley had dunked them in a basin of water to soften the crust. A brilliant idea, he had thought until he tasted his own production.

Pritchard was draining his coffee fast much to the delight of his apprentice. He smacked his lips with pleasure before taking one last sip. Lowering in the cup from his mouth, his spotted something dark at the bottom of his cup. It was like and elongated booger, that was moving slowly, heaving up and down to the pattern of shallow breathing.

The ranger spat out the coffee in his mouth, directly onto Crowley's face. He continued to gag for a second or two before screaming, "A slug, Crowley?!"

Crowley wiped the coffee off his face and faked innocence, "A slug?" He leaned forward in his seat to peer down into the cup at the writhing creature. "So it is, sorry Pritchard, must have missed it."

"So is this your way of revenge for not being able to go to market day?" Pritchard growled darkly.

Crowley dropped his innocent expression and said, "But do you regret your choice yet, Pritchard, because I can be a very irritating apprentice if I choose to be, especially when I'm all cooped up with you."

"I never regret my _good_ choices, Crowley, so no. Go practice with your bow before I get irritated enough to throw you in the river."

Crowley seemed disappointed enough but he was not about the give up.

He shot a few rounds before starting to execute plan B. Plan B involved a bow and some very sticky arrows.

Sneaking back into the house using his unseen movement techniques. Pritchard was in the toilet, quietly humming to himself. Crowley suppressed a laugh. Instead, he placed a jar of sticky iced syrup on the table used for cakes and pastries and retrieved his mentor's quiver of arrows.

Taking the first one out, he dipped the nock into the syrup and carefully placed the arrow back into the quiver. Then, he repeated the procedure twenty-four times with all of Pritchard's arrows. Now two dozen arrow nocks were sticky and viscid.

Crowley headed outside, after putting away the quiver of arrows and the syrup, making sure no trace of it was left on the table.

He practiced his bow for another quarter of an hour until Pritchard came out to check on him. Crowley saw that he had his bow with him and most importantly, his quiver and arrows. _Those rangers never go anywhere without their bows._ He thought.

It was time to set his plan into action. "Pritchard, hitting the bullseye on the target from one hundred meters is too hard." He whined, "I bet even you can't hit it."

Pritchard raised one eyebrow, "Well, that is a bet I'm afraid you're going to lose, Crowley." With that he transferred his bow from his dominant hand into his left one, selected an arrow from his quiver, nocked and drew; his fingers touching the corner of his lip, aimed and released.

In short, the arrow fell short (not sure if that counts as a pun but if so, pun intended). Pritchard frowned deeply and Crowley had to refrain from snickering.

It was a trick he had learned from one of the apprentices in their later years at the gathering last year. The stickiness of the nock hindered the arrow's flight just by a little, but too little to notice that it wasn't just the lack of skill from the archer that caused it to miss its target.

Pritchard looked suspiciously at Crowley who raised an eyebrow in reply. He hoped that he had gotten it right after practicing the expression hours in front of a mirror.

His mentor nocked and released another arrow, it landed helplessly a few meters short of the target. He tried again, but this time, weighed the arrow in his hand but felt the normal weight of his arrows. Once more, the arrow missed and Pritchard's frown deepened even more.

He stopped after a dozen arrows to examine his bow, finding nothing peculiar about it, he took out an arrow to examine it. Crowley held his breath. Pritchard saw nothing unusual as his eyes moved from the fletching and along the shaft of the arrow until his laid a finger on the nock.

"What the devil is this?" He burst out holding up a sticky finger to Crowley.

"Syrup."

Pritchard let out an exasperated sigh, "First of all, you are going to clean your stupid syrup off my arrows, second of all, you are not getting away with this and last of all I will never regret my choice." Pritchard was annoyingly difficult to anger.

Crowley had hoped that his mentor would admit to regret his choice after this but he still had three times more tricks up his sleeve. If Pritchard was never going to regret his choice of making his stay at the cabin, then Crowley was never going to give up trying to make him.

He finished wiping the last arrow with the wet cloth and placed it back into the quiver. Knowing that he should be studying geography next, he set the large map of Aruluen and a few neighbouring kingdoms on the table. Pritchard eyed the youth with suspicion before getting up to retrieve his quiver.

"I want you memorizing the map while I go out and practice archery." He said before picking up his bow and heading for the door. Then he added, "If you put as much effort into geography as you did into trying to prank me, you'd be a mapmaker by now."

Crowley grinned as the door closed behind his mentor. It was time for plan C. He fumbled in a kitchen cupboard and brought out a wooden pail. There was a plate full of leftovers from last night since Crowley had not been back for dinner.

Soon, the pail was filled with slushy green peas and mushy carrots. Then he watered down the mixture and stirred it with a spoon used for porridge. He turned to the table with two chairs on each side where they ate meals and carried a chair to the door. Leaving the door ajar, he strutted back to the bucket to carry it to the door.

He then heaved the pail up and rested it on the slightly angled door. It stayed.

Crowley sat by the table, mooning over the map since he was hardly focusing on it as his mind was impatient for Pritchard to come back. After about an hour, he did.

Pritchard slung his bow on his back and walked back to the cabin, hoping to see his apprentice studying hard, or else he ought to do something about it. _Crowley could try really hard when their's nothing to distract him, he had quite a talent for silent moving and archery but sometimes he just wants to have fun._ Pritchard thought. _Maybe I'll give him a day off soon if he behaves and tries harder._

With that thought he strolled to the front door. Then he noticed that the door was slightly open. He had a sudden feeling of impending doom. He shrugged that feeling off and pushed the door open. Carrots, peas and water crashed down on him and the pail bounce once on the floor and teetered to a stop in a puddle of mushy vegetables.

 _I should have known._ He thought ruefully, all thoughts of giving a day off to his apprentice now gone.

Crowley looked up from the map feigning surprise. He opened his mouth to speak but Pritchard cut him off,

"I don't regret a thing!" He barked and looked down at his soggy cloak. He closed his eyes and Crowley was afraid that he was going to burst with anger. "You can do the laundry this week." He muttered and left for the bathroom.

Crowley was done for the day but not yet for the night. Plan D was to be done at night so Pritchard wouldn't know.

Crowley tried to evade Pritchard he remainder of the day and did not dare to complain about the cold dinner. He gulped down his bread and meat in less than a minute and hurried off to finish memorizing the map.

Pritchard raised an eyebrow.

A few hours later, after the two had gone to bed, Crowley made sure that Pritchard was asleep. He exited the cabin and headed for a shovel at the stables. The two horses eyed him wearily.

 _Whatever you do is your own business, but if you've got no apples, I'll kindly ask you to leave._ Cropper seemed to say.

He brought the shovel to a spot he specially picked to dig his hole. That was where Pritchard loved to stand when practicing his knife-throwing. He smirked in the dark, picturing his mentor's surprised face in the hole and started digging. After the hole was dug, he would cover it with twigs.

"That's a big hole for a rabbit, what are you planning to catch? A bear?" Came a voice from behind him. Crowley started and almost toppled into his own hole. He opened his mouth but no words came out.

"Sorry for interrupting. I'll let you get back to your business." Pritchard said with sarcasm. He turned and headed back to the cabin calling back, "Oh, there _are_ bears out there." Pritchard went back into the warmth of the cabin and bolted the door after him. He settled himself in a chair with a cup of coffee and waited to see his apprentice try desperately to get in. _The boy had determination._ He thought, before going to bed, _it'll be a shame if he gets eaten by a bear._

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 **Sorry but I probably would not update in about ten days 'cause I'm in Ottawa and I forgot a charger so I can't write that much.**

 **Suggestions for the letter F please. I thinking** **fighting, or fitness or fief. Thanks for reading. I love reviews, (just not mean ones)!**


	6. F for Family and Friends

**Hi, I'm back. Sorry for the long wait. It's been** **what, 20 days? I just finished sailing camp and I literally had no time to spare. Thanks you for your reviews, Amania00 Crazedfangirl13 Moniquebowman catfish and the two guests. And guess what, I wrote a long chapter! Enjoy!**

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 **F for Family and Friends**

 _Rangers are not only loyal to the kingdom but also to their family and friends. In all cases, after an apprentice finishes their apprenticeship, the ranger and the apprentice will be like family and the very best friends. Although rangers work alone sometimes but together with their trusted ones, they are an invincible force not daily trifled with. We would do anything for a friend._

 **Here's a story of two rangers with their friends and family (A/N Set before the Royal Ranger):**

"This is a good place as any." Horace said as the friends emerged onto a grassy patch of land surrounded by willows and oaks.

"Shall we?" Alyss asked as she untied a picnic tarp from her leather bag. The others all nodded in affirmation and she shook out the tarp. Lady Pauline caught the other end and together, they set the blanket down.

A little to the left, Will and Halt mirrored their movements until there were two identical picnic blankets lined up on the grass.

Jenny and George plopped down, the others soon followed suit. Jenny had a picnic basket with her, filled with treats, pastries and freshly baked bread. She had taken the job of bringing all the food befitting her talent.

While she took the mouth-watering treats out and lay them on the tarp, George started delivering a speech about the weather. The friends gaped at the food one after another in ripe anticipation. Jenny took out a blueberry pie, an apple pie, some pastries, warm bread with two types of cheese and lastly some fruit.

Will went for a slice of the apple pie, Halt took a biscuit, Alyss and Lady Pauline both picked out some of their favourite fruits, George had a piece of county cheese, Jenny looked with satisfaction at her friends' eagerness and Horace grabbed everything in sight. Will and Halt nodded with grim recognition of their companion's appetite. Will finished half of his slice and shifted to sit next to Alyss. They held hands while Will tried to figure out how to eat the pie with his left hand. Halt rolled his eyes.

It was all in all, the perfect moment, until some bandits had to end it.

Halt and Will were first to notice it. A movement in one of the bushes to the left caught their attention. Halt nodded to Will looked at him with a question in his eyes. They focused on the movement with the corner of their eyes.

And there it was again. A big movement this time. The rangers both decided that it was definitely not an animal, if it was, it was a big one. Maybe a boar, Will grimaced at the thought.

Then something further right was spotted, more movement. Then further right again, and another spot after that. By now, Alyss and Pauline had noticed the change in mood of two rangers.

Will nudged Alyss, warning her of perhaps impending danger. The rangers and couriers made note of where their weapons were. Horace continued to scoff down a hot cross bun. He finished it and reached for a grape.

He was disputed by a cry in the air and his out-stretched hand flinched back.

"Now!" Someone had shouted.

The friends looked around and saw a terrifying sight of armed men charging from all directions at them.

Horace gave up on the thought of eating fruit and immediately sprang to his feet with sword in hand already unsheathed.

Will and Halt reached for their longbows but the rest of their weapons were already on them; their knives and quiver.

The two couriers held their knives at the ready prepared the throw them.

Jenny and George stood up in horror at the men around them nearing by the second. Jenny shook of her shock and looked around for a possible weapon but decided to take out her wooden ladle hanging from at her waist.

The Skandians looked around for valuables and brandishes their swords and axes. They closed in on the team. The one with the red beard was first to move. He headed for the nearest person, and unfortunately for him, it was Halt. With a roar, he raised his sword and attacked. Halt ducked under the wild swing and jumped forward with his saxe. The bearded Skandian twisted away but a red gash opened at his side.

Within three seconds, the picnic turned into a raging battle. Alyss deflected a sword with her long dagger and turned it to smash the hilt into the man's nose. Will abandoned his bow, he was in too close of a range, and delivered a few cuts when using the double knife technique the defend. Lady Pauline resulted to hand in hand combat after throwing her knife and an axeman charging towards Jenny and George. She stepped in with her leg bent behind another Skandian's and caught him off balance. She threw his to the ground and stole his dagger.

Horace moved with lightning speed parrying and delivering blows with his sword in a matter of seconds. The Skandian smirked at him noticing the natural swordsman's youth but the smirk quickly disappeared when Horace disarmed him and sent him flying with a kick to the chest. Alyss threw her dagger at the man that was coming up behind Will as he was fending off two Skandian from the front.

Will dealt with the two Skandians and smiled gratitude at Alyss and noticing an advancing burly man with an axe, tossed his throwing knife to Alyss. She rolled between the man's legs picking up the dagger in the process, stood up behind the man and knocked him unconscious with the dagger.

She turned to Will and they smiled at each other sharing a brief moment of tranquility. A cry disturbed them.

"Will!" "Alyss" Halt and Pauline cried in unison. They returned to the present guiltily.

"They've got no loot, skirl." Someone shouted in annoyance.

Another Skandian ran towards George and unfortunately, everyone was occupied with fighting except Jenny. As the Skandian stopped in front of George smirking at him, Jenny sneaked behind him and raised her spoon. She smacked the spoon hard into the burly figure's skull. Skandian jumped in shock and turned to face the cook with the spoon.

"They've got no loot? Then we'll just have to get ransom. Crew! Retreat."

He scooped up Jenny in one arm, then George in the other and ran into the trees with the rest of his men.

"We want gold, bring some! And meet back here tomorrow noon. If you try to follow us, I'll have your friends killed." The skirl called back before he and his men vanished none too silently into the forest.

Will raised his bow but lowered it again as he thought better of it. If he shot one Skandian or even two, then that would only encourage them to kill Jenny and George more.

"Should we follow?" Alyss asked looked around at her companions not even bothering to hide her worried expression. Pauline, on the other hand put on an unperturbed and calm expression.

It was Halt who answered. "No, they wouldn't notice Will and I if we follow, but we can't take down all of them by ourselves. Three of them are dead but there's still at least twenty more. One of them will get to Jenny and George before we do."

Will continued, "And we can't all follow. They won't notice us, but there's no saying they won't notice three more. Then we would be risking our friends' lives."

"The best thing to do is wait till tomorrow noon. They aren't in danger at the moment. Then we will be prepared with a plan."

The rest of the team nodded in agreement. Horace spoke up "Umm, has no one considered paying them the ransom?"

As the sun neared the centre of the sky, a party of warriors and diplomats rode into the woods. They had gone over their plan one last time together before they arrived at the clearing that had just recently been a picnic sight.

Wordlessly, two rangers split from the group, the younger one heading to the left and the older one, the right. They had tethered their horses a hundred meters or so back where they came from.

Will and Halt slithered between trees and foliage and into their position surrounding the clearing. Horace, Alyss and Lady Pauline stood visible to the south of the clearing, Will was north-west to it while Halt was at the north-east side both rangers concealed.

Now it was time to wait for the Skandians to arrive with their kidnapped friends.

They didn't have to wait too long as a bearded face appeared from the trees, followed by less than two dozen. Among them was a red faced but pretty girl who looked very angry and a tall, thin boy. Jenny and George saw the party of three and wondered where the forth and fifth were. The sailors, however payed that fact no attention.

It was Pauline who spoke first, "Before you ask for the ransom, may I have your name?"

The skirl's eyebrows furrowed slightly, "It's Vadik. Why do you ask?"

"Oh nothing, it's just so we can report you to Erak the next time we visit him." Alyss replied with a matter of fact tone.

Vadik was confused. If they knew and called the Oberjal by name, then they must know if personally if not pretty well. "And why would he listen to you?" He asked tentatively.

"Well, of course he'd listen to a few of his very best friends." Alyss continued casually.

Vadik flinched in surprise, "A few of his very best friends?" He repeated.

"You heard us." Pauline nodded. "Let me think what he'll do to you then?" She turned to her student, "Alyss, what do you reckon he'll do?"

"Hmm, I don't know, well, he'd most definitely have your heads. But, before that, some keel hauling wouldn't be a bad idea."

The Skandian pursed his lips. "What's keel hauling?" He asked slowly.

"Oh, that's when you get tied to a rope coming from under the boat, then you get thrown overboard and dragged under the boat and along, up the other side leaving you half drowned with millions of cuts from the barnacles. I thought a Skandian of all people should know that."

Vadik swallowed nervously at first but then seemed to come to a decision. He shook off his nervous manner and snorted.

"And you expect me to believe that? Ha! Even if it were true that you and that godforsaken oberjal are friends, why do you think we're raiding this far from Skandia? We're in exile! And we no longer answer to the oberjal!" He spat. "Now, about that gold."

Pauline gestured to a sack slumped against the floor. Vadik's eye's grew wide at the size of the sack. He rubbed his hands in anticipation. Horace bent down to pick it up and walked towards the Skadians slowly.

He closed the distance to Vadik at an arms length away and tossed the bag at the skirl's feet. The skirl bent down to pick it up. Horace moved before he could even take a proper look at the empty bag. The knight unsheathed his sword in one swift movement. Vadik, hearing the sound of metal against leather, bolted upright. Horace delivered a killing blow to the man's stomach. He tried to twist away unsuccessfully. With a last shudder of surprise, he collapsed on to the ground.

Almost at once, half a dozen arrows flew out, three from each side in rapid succession. They all found their targets, embedding their razor sharp heads into the Skandians closest to their hostages.

This all happened in less than five seconds. It took the Skandians approximately ten seconds to register what was happening. They looked around panic stricken at their dead skirl.

"Vadik!" One of the Skandians with the broken nose cried out. He stepped closer to the dead figure.

"I wouldn't move if I were you." Will's voice rang out across the clearing. Halt and him stepped out of the shadows of the trees, their bows at full draw. Even though that wasn't necessary since they could draw and shoot before the Skandian could land his first step, the Skandians did not know that. It would look more intimidating if an arrow was pointing directly at you.

The man with the broken nose stepped back in terror. Now that they had what was left of the Skandians in control. Horace made his way to Jenny and George to untied got up and together, tied up the rest of the Skandians with the rope that had bound them along with Will and Halt's thumb cuffs.

"That was quite the adventure. Thanks for saving us." Jenny commented as the friends made their way back to the castle contentedly.

Halt grunted in reply.

"Anything for my friends." Horace said and the other nodded agreement.

"Yes, we're one big family." Said Alyss.

Then Will added, "Picnic tomorrow?"

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 **Please let me know what you thought of that. Suggestion for G! Gilan, game, gamble, gait? School's starting soon so I don't** **know when I'll update next.**


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